


Precious Fae Prince

by EvenEcho



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Fae, Bottom Harry, Creature Fic, Creature Harry, Crossdressing, Dark, Evil Dumbledore, Fae & Fairies, Feminization, James Potter Lives, Light side bashing, Lily Evans Potter Lives, Mpreg Harry, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Non-Human Humanoid Society, Possessive Voldemort, Sane Voldemort, Submissive Harry, Top Lucius Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 08:49:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12105084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvenEcho/pseuds/EvenEcho
Summary: Harry Potter is raised as the Prince to the Land of the Fairies. His mother, Lily, and father, James, raise him away from human influence and keep him isolated in his castle only knowing tutors and family. One day, the Dark Lord, and ruler of the 'Dark Creatures', visits in order to set up an agreement between their kingdoms. The Dark Lord, along with his most trusted advisor Lucius Malfoy, both fall in love with the sweet fae cherub. How will they treasure and covert their beloved while dealing with overprotective parents as well as a war?“Come away, O human child!To the waters and the wildWith a faery, hand in hand,For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.”-W.B.Yeats





	1. You Precious Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enchanted_nightingale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enchanted_nightingale/gifts), [CallmeKitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallmeKitten/gifts).



> Name Changes  
> Harry Potter - Hosta  
> James Potter - Jonquil  
> Lily Evans Potter - Lily  
> (Fae don't have last names; they don't need them)

“ _Come away, O human child!_

_To the waters and the wild_

_With a faery, hand in hand,_

_For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand._ ”

**\- W. B. Yeats**

    “My precious elf!” Lily called for her darling child. He had escaped to the gardens in the back of their castle to play with the flowers and talk to the fishes that swam in their fountains. Hosta ran to his mother in no time, smiling and laughing all the way. He was only eleven years old, but he had never had a single bad thing happen to him. His innocence was still there, he had yet to feel the cruelty of the world around him. He hugged his mother, his head right under her small chest as he listened to her breath, a comforting sound. She ran her fingers through his hair with pristine, trimmed nails. Jonquil, formerly known as James Potter, walked to stand behind his wife. His arms encircling her waist with his hands resting on Hosta’s shoulders.

    “They’re here, the Dark Lord and his council,” Jonquil pressed soft kisses to Lily’s neck before backing away. The kingdom was run by Lily and the defense was handled by Jonquil who had, at one time, been an Auror in the wizarding world. Lily led their son inside and sent him up to his room to get dressed, as most fae didn’t wear clothes in their homes or in their community. There was nothing sexual about their nudity, but these were outsiders who were visiting and they were the most disturbed sorts of people. So Hosta ran up the stairs up to his room and put on a dress-like shirt and some jewelry that denotes his status as Prince. He was skipped and hopped downstairs, equally excited.

    Hosta was never allowed friends as a younger child, he wasn’t allowed to go outside the castle walls or stray from their garden. He only had contact with his family, godfathers (whom rarely visited anymore) and his tutors. He was completely shy to the outside world and this would be the first meeting he was allowed to attend. His mother had told him stories of a boy who had saved the world before being whisked away to his rightful place. A place without sadness, without loss, without cruelty and without destruction. He liked this place and that place was his home now. He couldn’t remember a time outside of his mother’s stories, he couldn’t remember the times he wasn’t here in the fairy realm in the castle.

    Joining his mother, sitting at her side in a smaller throne, he waited patiently for his father to bring the visitors in. Soon, and he wasn’t left wanting for long, a tall man, warped by dark magic, taking on the appearance of a snake-like demon rather than a human, and a following of humans, or people he assumed to be humans, hidden under black cloaks and masks made of bone with carvings to show their status in the Death Eater ranks. Hosta leaned forward but his mother’s hand on his chest made him sit back in place.

    “You come before the queens of the fairies in search of help, in search of assistance. What do you have to offer us in return for our forces and influence?” Hosta turned to look up at Lily who seemed a complete different person than his mother. She was strong, her voice harsh with control whereas he was used to her soft tones and cooing. He was almost frightened by her severe tones and contorted face, her eyebrows arched in something seeming like anger. The Dark Lord, the snake man, bowed lowly before the people behind him followed. He stood back up, but the rest continued to bow.

    “Your Highness,” he started. Despite his appearance being that of an unhealthy dark mage, he was completely loveable with his voice. Rich, smooth baritone that demanded respect. Hosta looked from the man to his mother, curious as to what she would do now, but the man started to speak again. “I have come, offering an alliance. I have heard of the wizards trying to infiltrate your lands, and we offer our protection from them. Once we win the war, with your help, we will make sure that the peasants who dare to encroach upon your realm never do so again.”

    “And how do we know you will fulfill your promises. Promises can be empty. Why should I trust you and risk my army for wizards who have done nothing but cast us off or use us?”

    “In my command are the delegates from the other colonies, Lucius Malfoy of the Moon and Sun Elves,” one of the men stood up, removing his mask and dropping the hood of his cloak to reveal shinning white-blond hair and brilliantly cool and calculating silver eyes. His ears were pointed just enough to know he wasn’t human and he had an inhuman grace that made him seem that much more regal and elegant. He bowed once again before standing beside his lord.

    “The Queen of the Divine Beasts, Bellatrix Black Lestrange,” A woman, the only woman, dropped her hood and removed the mask. She had a crazy glint in her eyes, but other than that she seemed well put together and respectable. A perfect woman in a power of a massive fortune and a generous sum of political influence. She was absolutely stunning in a way that the Elf wasn’t, in the way that Hosta had never seen of a fairy before.

    “Severus Snape, the Lord of the Vampire colonies and Elder to the Vampiric World Council,” another man dropped his hood and removed the mask from his face. He smiled though, something the others hadn’t done. Lily smiled back at him and leaned forward herself, crossing her legs and crossing her hands on her lap. Severus was a man of tall stature but he hunched over just slightly. His fingers were spindly and stained with potions, likely a potion maker or an alchemist of some sort, Hosta thought. He was beautiful in his own right, as all vampires were, but there was something strangely unattractive that made him seem all the more gorgeous. It was an odd thing to think or feel, and Hosta was unaccustomed to such feelings, but he liked them all the same.

    “And last but not least, Fenrir Greyback on behalf of the werewolves,” the last man dropped his hood and removed a mask, strangely his mask was much different and plain compared to the others. His cloak and robes were new, as if this was the first time he had ever worn them. He shifted uncomfortably, likely because the fabric was still new and slightly scratchy. Fenrir was a hairy man with canine features even in human form. He must have truly been in touch with his inner wolf, a highly admirable thing to have accomplished. Lily nodded her head at him in respect as she had done to each of the others beside Severus and the Dark Lord.

    “Lord and Elder of the Vampires,” Lily addressed, “should I believe them?”

    “That is up to you, my Queen, but I have put my faith and so far, they have not failed me,” Severus bowed lowly once again. The Dark Lord nodded at him before turning back to the Queen of fairies. Her long blonde hair hung around her face, framing a perfect heart-shape. She had the most stunning green eyes, eyes that her son -- or daughter as nobody could truly tell -- had inherited along with her beautiful long hair, although it was a few shades darker, but still red nonetheless.  
    “We will lend you our army to help defeat your opponent, but we expect repayment by stopping those awful wizards who have been killing our kind,” she rose from her throne and everyone bowed on one knee. “Please rise,” they all got back on their feet. “Would you like to join my son, husband and I for tea? It truly must have been a long trip and I would like to know my new allies.”

 

    They sat in the sunroom and the garden was in perfect view. Jonquil served his wife tea and their son before asking how everyone took their tea. He sat back and watched as his wife spoke with their guests. She smiled at them, focusing on Severus, a man that she had known for centuries. Lord Lucius Malfoy seemed as if he couldn’t keep his eyes off the little angel in the corner who sat on his knees, hands on the glass as he stared outside at the flowers and plants swaying in the gentle breeze. He turned around when he heard his name called and nodded or mumbled before turning his attention back on the gardens. He seemed so in love with the different types of lilies growing in the garden, lilies that clung to the Narcissus flowers and plantain lilies. The plantain lilies were much wider spread than the other flowers and were much greener with less flowers than foliage, but they still climbed across the ground and hugged the narcissus that were on one side in their golden glory and the dizzy, black out and divine lilies.

    The Dark Lord seemed to have his eye on the fae prince as well, he was particularly admiring his ability to smile for so long and seem so happy. It had been such a long time since he had been truly happy, nearly fifty years he would say, if not longer. Perhaps he had never known true happiness his entire life, his span of living surely didn’t have many ‘happy’ or fond memories, at least none he could recall or think of to cherish. Severus and Lily were speaking and Hosta spun around and plopped down next to his mother before downing his entire cup of lukewarm tea and setting it down daintily. He stared at their guests for a moment before looking back outside to the garden.

    “How old is your son?” The Dark Lord asked, gingerly avoiding any unsavory topics, but trying his hardest to satisfy his curiosity.

    “Hmm, oh, Hosta? He’s about eleven in wizard years, but he’s been around us for about sixty-one wizarding years. He’s still my precious child and will be for another forty or so years,” the last part sounded much more like a threat. She set her tea down. “Hosta, darling, come here,” and Hosta turned to his mother and crawled over her, pressing his cheek into her shoulder and hugging onto her. He wasn’t like any child wizard they had ever seen, for human children are much more independent by eleven years old. “He hasn’t left the castle in ten years,” she finally added almost sadly, “we cannot lose him, he is just so special…”

    “I see,” the Dark Lord said as he set his teacup down. “I must be leaving for the mortal realm once again, I have many under my control and they need guidance, strict guidance sadly. I will keep in touch with you through one of my advisors if not myself,” with an exchange of pleasantries and goodbyes, the company left, escorted by some fae guards out of the castle and back to the portal to their realm through the forest.

    Hosta lets his mother carry him back inside. “I didn’t know I’m already sixty one years old, mother. It surely doesn’t seem as though I have been around for that long.”

    “Well you have my little angel,” she set him down on their tile floor and he waved before skipping back off to his room to strip out of his shirt and hopefully go back outside and play with the fishes in the fountains and maybe swim in the pond. He was determined to catch a fish one day, but they were so fast and slippery. They had all sorts of colourful fish, some were magical and some were muggle, but still pretty. Hosta sat at the edge of their small pond and kicked his feet in the water, waiting for the fish to come and nibble on his toes. His father joined him eventually, he just came to him, hugged him and told him that he loved him very much before going back to their army to help prepare them for battle against wizards. Fae have much stronger, innate magic, it was raw and powerful, while wizards only channeled a portion of that power through things such as wands.

 

    A few weeks later, Hosta was pruning the flowers in the garden and had just finished the last patch of flowers. He was walking inside his house when he was grabbed around the waist and picked up by large hands. He didn’t know who this person was but he hit them on the back and shouted for his mother. He could hear her screaming and he finally pushed his hands against the man’s spine and sent a sharp bolt of energy through his palms disabling the man for his entire life. He fell down and ran away, ran towards the cries of his mother. He walked in and found her fighting with an elder man, a wizard. He could tell by the god-awful robes that he wore. Lily had a sword, a long, thin sword, and she was fighting valiantly, and with honour but the wizard she was fighting had no honour, he just had a goal and he was doing anything necessary to achieve that goal. Jonquil had been sent with the rest of the army to fight with the Order of the Phoenix and the rest of their allies’ enemies, but one of them found a way in. This had to be the man who ran that organization. The man with twinkling blue eyes and a heavy, long, thinning beard. Hosta ran forward and tried to tackle the wizard before trying to cripple him as he had done to his captor but he only managed to get himself picked up again. He flailed about.

    “Mother! Just let him take me! You’re going to get hurt!” He shouted and he slowly stopped flailing, he turned to look up at the man who glared at them both before apparating them out. Lily screamed again, this time she threw her sword and dropped to her knees. She cried and she pressed her head against the cool tiles. She wasn’t just crying, she was sobbing violently. Her son had just been taken, her husband was fighting somebody else’s war. She was too weak, she couldn’t protect the only thing in her life that she cared for more than herself, her kingdom, her husband… her everything was gone and she couldn’t stop him.

    Hosta rolled into a cage and was thrown a tattered robe. He looked down at it, not understanding before he saw people staring at him. He put the robe on and tied it closed before pulling his knees up. This was the headquarters of the Order, he took it. It was gloomy, and dark. He could see two people were hiding their faces, but he could tell those two anywhere.

    “Remmy, Siri?” He asked, reaching his hands through the bars, “Moony, let me go. Padfoot, please, I miss mother.”

    “She did the wrong thing, Harry,” Sirius said, casting his eyes at the floor, too horrified with his own behaviour and disgusted by his part in all of this. He had just helped kidnap an innocent child, his godson for Merlin’s sake, and for what? To defeat some Dark Lord who would likely take him back with a few kind words? What did Dumbledore have planned for Harry, that was the question.

    “My name’s not Harry. It’s Hosta. Like the lily. The plantain lily. You know the one, you helped me plant the current patch in our garden,” he started to tear up. Who could do something like this. Why was this happening? He wanted to go back to the castle, he was wrong, he never wanted to leave it, he didn’t like it out here, wherever _here_ was. He wanted his mother and his father and the fish in the ponds and his flowers and his bedroom and tutors! He started to cry. “I want to go home,” he clutched the bars in his little fists. “I don’t want to stay here, I want to go home and play in the pond again. Why are you doing this? Why is this happening? What do you want from my mother?”

    “Shh, be calm now, young one,” Dumbledore said in a soothing manner, ignoring the fact that the child was in something akin to a large birdcage in the middle of the table. Hosta tried to calm down but he couldn’t stop from crying. He had tried to be brave, to save his mother and now he was lost and scared. He didn’t want to be here. What was this feeling? Terror? He hadn’t had the opportunity to feel it before. Or this sadness? He hadn’t felt that for so long; long enough ago so he couldn’t remember the feeling.

    “Don’t tell him to be calm!” Remus growled out, “We’ve just kidnapped him, I think he should be allowed to feel whatever he wants to feel.”

    “Moony, please help me!” Hosta clung to the bars and sobbed, one arm reaching out trying to grab his honorary godfather. Remus pulled away as if Hosta were diseased and highly contagious. This only made Hosta feel like he had lost his hope, he dropped his arm and looked down at his thin but long, little legs.

    “He doesn’t want to feel scared though, do you my boy?” Dumbledore tried again. Hosta turned to look at him and nodded. He didn’t want to feel scared, he didn’t like the feeling at all. He hated this, and he had never felt hate before. He couldn’t stand in his cage, so he was confined to kneeling. His robes, though somewhat covering him, exposed him more, and rather than be innocent as true nudity was, it felt dirty to look at him, but he was still temptingly sinful. Arthur Weasley finally stood up, his wife crying into her hands.

    “How have we stooped so low as to take a child? He can’t be more than six years old!”

    “I have it on good authority he is actually sixty-one years old,” Albus said casually dismissing his red-headed follower as if he were a pesky bug.

    “He’s still a baby!” Molly cried out finally, her silence only making her feel all the more guilty.

    “He’s our only option,” Dumbledore says after a silence, a very, very harsh and cold silence. Nobody wanted to admit that they had done such a horrible thing, but in reality they had, and now they would become targets of the fae empire, something that nobody wanted. Fae were vicious, but the Queen had a temper to be reckoned with an skills in battle to be feared. Sirius missed James and so did Remus, but they didn’t want to kidnap his son, but then again, it was all for the greater good.

    Kreacher came and took the cage with Hosta away on Sirius’ command. For a moment, it pained the eldest Black male even more knowing that he had blood adopted Hosta. He was supposed to be there for him, not kidnap him and force him to fight in a war he was far too young to be in. Kreacher took Hosta to Regulus’ old room and set him down on the bed, not taking him out of the cage.

    “Did they enslave you as well?”

    “Long times ago,” Kreacher grumbled, “Long times ago Kreacher was a free elf. A real elf; baby real elf. Kreacher was taken by wizards and made to work. Kreacher doesn’t remember Kreacher’s family…”

    “I’m so sorry,” Hosta started, “I could tell my mother, she’s the Queen of fae, she can help you and I know the King of Elves, he would help you too. Please, just let me out of here and I will take you away from here, you can live with your family again!”

    “No!” Kreacher clutched the sides of his head and dropped to his knobby knees. “No, no, no! Kreacher is not a bad elf!” He stands up and pops away with a glare to the young fae prince. He was all alone now, in a dark room that smelled like musk and mold.

 

    Lily, Queen of the Fae, regrouped herself quickly, putting the emotions she felt in the back of her mind, behind years of fortified occlumency walls. She called for Jonquil and told him to send their messengers, that they had been attacked and they were calling in a favour. Soon, the Lords and Queen from the meeting before were gathered in the throne room, except now there was a table. There were more associates from other kingdoms that the Fae realm was allied with. Including, but not limited to, the Empress of Lionfolk and the King and Queen of Merrow (along with their son who was an adult and learning to replace his parents in the event of their demise). She waited for everyone to file in an take their seats. The Dark Lord immediately noticed the missing cherub of a fae prince at his mother’s side and he turned to those he looked after. Lucius nodded as did Bellatrix and Severus. The last to notice was Fenrir but that was only because he was entranced with the beautiful lioness, who paid Fenrir no mind have you, before him.

    “I thank you all for coming. Only hours ago, my kingdom was attacked and my son was taken from me by a wizard. A wizard we all know of and despise: Albus Dumbledore. My son tried to stop him, tried to tackle him,” she would have laughed at the blind ignorance of her son, thinking he could take down a fully grown and elder wizard, but this was no time for laughter, in fact, it pained her to know that she had kept him so sheltered that he didn’t know how to protect himself and she had yet to train the bravery out of him and replace it with self-preservation, a skill all royalty needed (far more than the common-folk’s bravery). “He was unsuccessful and he told me to just let him be taken. I couldn’t attack in fear of hurting him and then they were gone. I suspect he has taken him back to their headquarters, and I fear that Hosta’s godfathers are working against us now,” Jonquil stiffened with anger. How dare his friends, the men he trusted, turn against their godchild; he was already planning his revenge upon their cowardice to stand up for what was right.

    “The Dark Lord and associates will send out search parties after the meeting. We offer our full support in the search for you son, my Queen,” the Dark lord spoke, shocking everyone who thought the man would be the most reluctant to offer support. The man was known for his cruelty, and while his offer seemed pure, Lily didn’t miss the possessive glint in his eye when he spoke of her son. She ignored it however, it would do good to have someone who would give themselves to protect her son, at least more than her and her husband. How far that possessiveness went however could grow to become concerning. The Dark Lord’s associates agreed fervently.

    “The Fae kingdom thanks you,” Lily looked to Jonquil, who at one time had been involved with the Order of the Phoenix along with his three best friends, and reached out to grab his hand to comfort him. He was just as devastated as her that their son was gone. She hoped that his loss did not break up their marriage. She would not know what to do with herself if she had lost both her husband and her child, her sweet prince.

    The other kingdoms agreed to assist, and they were all dismissed politely. Lily turned to her husband and he held her while she cried. He didn’t hold back his tears either. Unlike in the mortal realm, there was no stigma attached to men crying, in fact all display of emotions were encouraged.

 

    Hosta grew weary and hopeless the longer he was locked inside the room. He was let out of his cage, but he didn’t know how long he had been in the house. The windows were blinded shut so he couldn’t look and count the days. His hair was even longer than before, so he had to have been there for quite some time. In fact, it had been seven years before Hosta’s begging had someone open the door. The door swung open, the knob slamming into the plaster causing the paper to cave in and plaster to flake onto the dirty floor. He looked up at a red-haired girl, because she was definitely no woman. Was she here for something? She closed the door behind her and looked at Hosta who was sitting up on the bed, still only with a small robe on his body, dirty robe despite the frequency he showered under the cold water he was allowed in the connected bathroom. His skin was pale, too pale, sickly actually. He hadn’t seen the sun in seven years after all and his eyes were so sensitive, it hurt to look at the door, the light had been blinding. Sometimes the light that peeked from under the door burned his corneas and he had to recover in the safety of darkness.

    “Are you here to help me?”

    “No, you silly boy,” Ginerva Weasley said, walking to the bed and taking a seat on the edge. “We’re to be married soon and I wanted to get to know you,” Ginerva’s face twisted with anger when Hosta’s eyes started to well up with tears. She was beautiful! Why wasn’t he happy that he got someone as great as her? He shouldn’t be crying, he should be rejoicing they allowed a dark creature to breed with someone as perfect as her. She let out a growl before leaning forward and slapping him. The red mark on his cheek was too prominent, in fact, it looked as if it was going to bruise. She then realized how skinny the boy was and how pale and _disgusting_ he appeared. Why was she being forced to settle with someone so horrendous? Of course, Hosta just started crying even more. Although it had been seven years, he was still only a child, he was only about nine months older than he had been if he had been in his home land. He even still looked like a child, barely twelve at most. She frowned at him when he reached up to hold his cheek.

    “I don’t want to know you. You are just as horrible as them. I will not marry you, you are not precious to me, and I will only be wed to someone who makes me happy,” he cried harder, “like father and mother, they are so happy,” he jumped off the bed and ran to the door before pounding his fists against it again, although his hardest was still weak. “Remmy! Moony! Moony please help me!” _bang, bang, bang_ . “Why don’t you love me? Padfoot? Pads? Siri! Help me!” _bang, bang, bang_. “I don’t want to be here, I’m scared!”

    “Shut up you little bitch!” Ginerva stood up and pulled Hosta back before throwing him back on the bed. She leaned over him, a fully mature witch, over a 68 year old elf, barely a teen. In her mind, she reasoned that the boy was sixty-eight, she was actually with someone four times her age. He was just baby faced, he was still an adult. He could consent and why wouldn’t he is he was with such a beautiful girl such as herself? She had been promised to a Prince since she was only two years old. She was disappointed to find that her _prince_ was nothing more than a scared, whiny little _bitch_.

    There was a commotion outside and then she heard footsteps outside the door. Spells were blasting people back and forth. One body slammed against the door with a sickening crack and thud before they slid down and continued to fight, even paralysed. She grabbed her wand and moved to the door. She opened the door just enough to see death eaters in their headquarters, and that man! Voldemort himself was in their headquarters and he was furious. She shut the door and put up rudimentary locking and warding spells since that was the best she knew and it was followed by a sickening silence before the door was burst off it’s hinges, forcing Ginerva back onto the ground. She got up, shoving the splintered door off of her cut leg, before casting all the nasty spells and hexes she knew.  
    “Stupid girl,” someone hissed and she froze, utterly terrified. She looked up, through the dust that had been kicked up, she saw a snake-like man and Hosta had run into his arms. Voldemort looked down at her and the last thing she saw was a jet of vibrant green light before she fell into eternal rest. She was lucky that a nonpainful spell was the worst that she had gotten, she deserved a far more sinister and painful death. The Dark Lord looked down at Hosta who was crying into his robes. He still looked as the child he was, not showing signs of much aging. Instead, he reached his hands up and let The Dark Lord pick him up and carry him.

    “Let’s get you home, little prince,” he whispered into matted and unbrushed but sweet-smelling hair of the child in his arms. His Elite, and by extension his allies, gathered around him as they left, leaving few survivors but wanting this to get back and out to send a message, a warning to the headmaster of Hogwarts. To Albus Dumbledore. A message telling him to stay away, and that he cannot stop them now.

 

    It had been three-quarters of a year since Lily had laid eyes on her son. She had expected another day of reports before hours of searching on her behalf and the possible skirmish with wizards who only wanted to fight someone so beautiful that they saw as weak. She hadn’t expected for the Dark Lord to burst into her throne room as she read all of her reports and Jonquil gathered the remaining army and sent them out in search parties. No, and the boy, who had cried himself to sleep in his arms, was definitely not expected, but a god send anyhow. Lily pushed her chair back and ran to her child. She took him from the Dark Lord’s arms and smoothed out his hair the best she could. It was matted from the roots to halfway down his head. He smelled clean, as if he had showered recently, but he was not properly taken care of. Bellatrix, Queen of the Hellhounds and Chthonic Creatures, dragged in three people, all squirming in their bonds. She kicked them and they rolled to Lily’s feet. One was Sirius Black, Hosta’s wizard godfather, and there was one metamorphmagus and another man who seemed older and highly intoxicated. 

    “These were the strongest fighters guarding your son, my Queen,” Bellatrix bowed her head and took a few steps back. Lily glared down at Sirius, shaking with rage. She wanted to kill him slowly and brutally. He was supposed to protect Hosta, not keep him captive.

    “Thank you, Bella,” she hid her anger, although to anyone with eyes could see her barely contained and seething anger, “You know you can call me Lily… I thank you all, please, remove your masks. Come with me,” she looked at the few death eaters who were also kings, queens and pack leaders respectively. “Only if I could borrow some of you time, I’m sure you’re very busy,” Lily turned on her heel, Jonquil already there to pick up their prisoners and take them to the most brutal and terrifying cells in the dungeons of the castle. Lucius held their wands in his pocket and he handed them to Jonquil as well, identifying whose wand belong to which prisoner.

    Lily took Hosta upstairs, still followed by her company, and to his room. She woke him up only for him to cry and hold her. She motioned for everyone to find a seat. The Dark Lord conjured chairs for everyone while Lily sat on Hosta’s bed with her son in her lap and clinging onto her, sobbing and apologizing.

    “Shh, it’s okay, my love. You’re safe now. I’m so sorry we didn’t find you faster. I have missed you so much,” she rubbed soothing circles into his back, between his shoulderblades.

    “Siri wouldn’t help me; I begged him. And Remmy just looked at me with _disgust_ ,” he had learned and become accustomed to that look, it was the look he gave himself as he could see his hair grow matted and his nails far too long and disgusting. He had also seen it in his ‘soon-to-be-wife’s’ eyes when he had cried. Lily only hushed her baby boy, her little flower, and held onto him. He shrugged out of the robes, throwing the stinking and tattered robes to the floor before turning around to face the people who saved him. He wiped his eyes and tried to put on a strong and brave face for them, but he couldn’t and he held his eyes as he cried, embarrassed for others to see him like this, something he would have never been embarrassed about before his kidnapping. “There was a red-headed woman, she said we were to be married and she called me a little,” he sniffled, “a little _‘bitch’_. What did she mean by that?

    Lily wasn’t the only one furious; everyone in the room, beside Hosta, was angry.  
    “A Weasley no doubt,” Lucius finally said. The Dark Lord nodded, knowing very well that the woman had been a Weasley.

    “I told her I only wanted to marry someone I love, like you and father,” he looked up at his mother and she smiled down at him.  
    “That was good. That is true. You will only marry when you are ready and when you fall in love,” she stroked the untangled ends of his hair and summoned a brush to her hands before gently trying to make her way through the matted hair and detangle the mess. Severus, the one more familiar with the nudity of the fae and not nearly as shocked or shy as Lucius, Fenrir and Bella seemed to become faced with the odd behaviour or as silent and tense as the Dark Lord had become, dug through his potion bag and handed Lily a potion for detangling messy hair. She thanked him and so did Hosta before reaching out and taking Severus’ hand. He felt his palm with both hands, his smaller hands still far smaller than those of Severus. Severus was stuck in an awkward position but didn’t pull back as many of his associates may have. Hosta felt his palm, reading the lines ingrained in his calloused skin before pulling his hand up to touch his soft and completely unblemished cheek.

     “You are so smart,” Hosta finally said, closing his eyes, “You found their hiding place, you found me.”

    “I did.”

    “Thank you, Lord Prince.”

    “No, no, call me Severus, or Sev. You’re nearly family,” Severus kissed his forehead before returning to his seat. The Dark Lord’s eye twitched but it went nearly unnoticed, but Lucius saw it, and he knew that the Dark Lord had wanted to take the credit, he had wanted to be seen as the hero because he wanted to possess and have Hosta, just as Lucius himself desired the boy (although Hosta was still far too young for Lucius’ taste, but in a few years, he would be absolutely delectable).

    “Thank you Severus,” Lily smiled and brushed out the tangled hair on her son’s head with ease and without a single complaint or a pained gasp as she pulled on the knots and matted bits. She looked over them all as Hosta told them of how he was trapped in a room, and he was given food through a small flap cup into the door. He said it was one way, and he couldn’t open it and the house elf would take the plates and dishes out of the room afterwards. That the house elf was mean but only to Sirius and the others, he had always been polite to Hosta no matter how much he couldn’t help him, at least he showed him some decency. He told them how they would forget about him after a few weeks and then throw him something with lots of fat and sugar in it to keep him going as they knew they would forget about him again. No matter the all the screaming he did, they forgot about him and he forgot his old life, and he thought that he had stopped being looked for, that nobody cared about him because he was gone and that his family had forgotten about him too, just as his uncle Moony and godfather Pads had.

    Hosta smiled and thanked everyone who had helped find him and he hugged all the death eaters who had come to his room, kissing their cheeks and knuckles before giggling and moving on. He skipped around, as if nothing bad had happened and everyone melted just seeing how cute he was. Inside Hosta however, there was something dark growing, something twisted and evil, something that hated what had happened, something that scared him so he kept it hidden away. Something that he wasn’t yet old enough to deal with and so he had it locked away where it wouldn’t disturb him.

    After Hosta’s proclaimed heroes left, he wasn’t allowed to leave his mother’s side and she had sent word to her other allies upon finding her son and how there would be a celebration for his return and that they were all invited. Security would be high, very, very high since Lily was on edge still. She was terrified that her baby boy would be taken again, and so she kept him with her and the guards around the castle doubled, and the guards that were stationed in Hosta’s ward of the castle were tripled.


	2. Icky

“ _Oh come ye child_  
_To the land of the fey_  
_Where dragons roam_  
_And fairies play_  
_Where the music is_  
_Both soft and wild_  
_Oh come, oh come_ _  
_ Oh come ye child!”

 **-Diana Leger** ; “Oh Come Ye Child”

    Hosta grew into a fine young man. His tutors were proud of him, and so were his adoring parents. It seemed the events of twenty-two years ago, in the human realm (and in human years), were forgotten by Hosta as he grew into a fine teenager. He was thirteen when his life changed once again. His body began to change, and it was bizarre. He wasn’t used to the obnoxious changes. He dreamt of many people that made him feel funny inside and in _certain areas_ . It was just uncomfortable and _icky_. He decided it was time to speak to his mother about this bizarre pattern that happened dreams that plagued him.

    Lily wasn’t being insincere when her darling child came to her with slightly mortal problems, but she supposed it was about _that time_ in his life. She picked her child up and hugged him, his arms holding onto her, his fingers searching for her robes to hold onto as if he were to be taken again. He cried, explaining how it was all so weird, how he woke up with sticky sheets and a ‘gross’ feeling in his tummy. Lily only admired her child, and more so the bond she had with her son. No wizard child who experienced wet dreams would ever run to his mother in search of answers, it was nearly unheard of, but she had raised him to rely on her. Not in a completely dependable way, because she was sure he could function without her, but just dependable enough so that she was still her precious boy. She let him cry on her and finally she let out a small chuckle, shocking Hosta into looking up at her with wet eyes and damp lashes, all stuck together but darker than usual. She wiped his tears away with one hand, the other clasped under his bottom to keep him on her knees as she sat.

    “It’s all a part of growing up, my little elf,” this didn’t make Hosta feel much better, but it appeased him for the time being. He nodded and rested against his mother until her company arrived. He hopped up and walked off, still rubbing his eyes and looking put out. Lily went into Queen-mode when her guests walked into her formal dining hall where she was sitting, awaiting the meeting that had been called. Dumbledore had once again threatened their kingdom, this time, killing several of her guards, all freshly inducted into their ranks only to be slaughtered. It was horrible having to let their families know. On a bad and good note, there were no mates to be told as all the soldiers were still young, far too young to have found their mate. It was hard to find mates as they were spread across all the realms and most didn’t have the chance to search or find their soul-partners.

    The Dark Lord Voldemort took his seat at the table along with his associates and the others around him. They started their discussion. In fact, Jonquil, on orders to find the queen and ask her for permission to oversee the new trainings with the lower-level recruits when he stumbled on Hosta, his ear pressed against the doors leading into the dining hall and throne room. Jonquil picked his son up, startling him, and hugged him to his chest before knocking and entering with Hosta. Hosta immediately snapped his attention to the group of men nearest his mother along with one woman. They were the people who saved him, he was so thankful for them and he had yet to truly repay them. He recognized the one with pale blonde hair, as it was very recognizable, as someone from one of his dreams and he couldn’t keep the blush off his face. He looked at his mother who had her eyebrow raised much like the vampire emperor; _Severus_ Hosta remembered. Jonquil set Hosta on his feet and he hopped to his mother on bouncy feet, due to his nerves, and crawled into her lap. Of course, she welcomed him with open arms and only a pointed look rather than a reprimanding. He was a curious boy, she took no offense to his inquisitive behaviour and if her associates were smart they wouldn’t take offense either. Hosta nodded to each of the rulers, bowing his head in respect, before turning up to his mother. He was thirteen, in human years, now, so he was larger than what they had seen, but he was a fairy, he would remain small for the rest of his life. He was no burden on Lily. Jonquil kneeled and asked his queen and wife to do as he saw fit with the training of their army and she allowed it, excusing herself from the meeting for a moment to speak with her husband. She set Hosta down in her chair.

    Like good guests, all the rulers from faraway empires were polite to the prince, but Hosta was far too familiar with them all to be formal or proper. He was simply not cut out for the true ‘prince treatment’ that all the others received and got pampered and laved with affection instead.  
    “Hello,” he said, sitting up on his knees in the throne before leaning over the table, his elbows propping him up. Nobody questioned his behaviour either. It was clear as the the Queen’s ruling and raising of her child, they had no place to tell her how to bring up her child. Even if they disagreed, it was polite to stay silent and speak of their feelings in trusted, heavily-guarded company.

    “Good morning, Prince,” Lucius inclined his head as did Severus. Hosta flashed a bright smiled at them before resting his cheek against the cool table.

    “How have you been, Hosta?” Severus finally asked, gathering the courage no other seemed to possess. He knew that it was improper, officially, to speak to a prince and use his first name, especially the fae prince, but he also knew that he was familiar with the queen and Hosta wasn’t used to all the _proper_ talk and rules dictating their ways, he was just Hosta.

    “I’ve been fine, Mister. Mummy said that I’m finally growing up. I have about thirty-five years before I’m a big boy! Can you believe that? Where has all the time gone?” He repeated the last sentence as he heard his mother say it often in reference to his age. There were snickers around the table. None, besides one, were rude or to insult the prince but simply because the boy was adorable and offered an innocence their own children lacked due to their status in the world and traditions they had upheld by teaching them from a young age.

    “Yes, it seems that only yesterday we were here and you were still only of Hogwarts age,” Severus replied with his own smirk, showing just a tidbit of his fangs. Hosta was thoroughly intrigued. He knew what bordered on rude, even rude for him, and asking to see someone’s teeth was indeed rude, but he did want to see his fangs. He wanted to see them so bad!

    “...Where is mummy?” he looked around, turning to look behind his chair. He turned back around and smiled nervously before sitting back in the chair. If anyone noticed his nakedness, they said nothing about it. Suddenly though, Hosta felt self-conscious with everyone looking at him. The doors slammed opened and the Queen walked in at a quick pace. She picked Hosta up and sat back down.

    “I’m right here my little elfling,” she smiled and kissed the crown of his head. “I’ve just been informed that the Next Generation of rebels has sent us a missive. They would like our _cooperation_ in exchange for safety,” she let out a girlish laugh before wrapping her arms around her angel and stroking his black, tuft-like curls. His green eyes bore into his mother’s shoulder where he rested his head and let her rock him. Slowly but surely his eyelids started to feel heavier and heavier until he couldn’t bear to keep them open any longer. They fell shut and he was asleep. Of course Bellatrix, being one of the only other females knew what maternalism that only a mother could feel would feel like, seeing as she was proven barren due to her families inbreeding. She looked upon Hosta with warm eyes, motherly eyes with kindness foreign to her master and protector, Lord Voldemort. Except when her Lord looked at Hosta. Even the snake-like demon of a wizard couldn’t help but to relax and take in the sight of such a precious fae prince.

    “What will you advise them to do, your highness?” Severus asked; surely they Queen was not even letting the idea of agreeing to ally herself with the rebels. She would never simply do something just to do it, she was far too clever for that, but how would she play such an angle and keep the peace between everyone. The fae realm had the most trouble with wizards and magical beings attacking them due to their ‘docile’ nature (a rumor started by mortals who saw the gnomes and other small-folk in their gardens and homes). The fae were truly vicious and strong, very apt at warfare just because they had stronger magic than the average wizard which allowed them to come up with much more advanced magics and weapons.

    “I have three days to send my agreement, if I take any longer, they will take my answer as declension,” she sighed, looking over her current allies. She had little options. If she were to decline their offer, as she had always done in the past, the younger generation had taken to integrating with muggles illegally, and therefore they had muggle inventions which could cause a _major_ problem for the magical folk.

    “I think you should accept,” the Dark Lord started, “If you accept then you can use them to gain valuable information. Send an ambassador in your stead and have them report to you. A woman of your stature couldn’t possibly be seen in the majorities enemy nor can she be seen with common wizards like that _filth_. You can be waiting here with us. They wouldn’t dare try to make an alliance with any other faction besides the fae due to their very muggle beliefs that the fae folk are meek and obsequious,” The Queen let out a growl of rage at hearing what she knew to be true spoken aloud. She hated the blood traitors, muggleborns and muggles’ ideas on her and her people. Less than two percent of the wizard population had even met a sentient, higher-thinking fae person yet they deem to know of them and their ‘ways’. Lily inclined her head in acknowledgment of his statement. She would think about it. She did agree that the Dark Lord’s idea was quite great and those muggle-lovers were impressionable meaning she could easily let them believe that she was weak by acting and playing on their silly ideas.

    The meeting was dismissed but a few members stayed back, namely the Dark Lord and company. They took their meeting to the sun room like the previous times. Hosta shifted in his mother’s arms. He was very small for a thirteen year old child, but he was a fae meaning he had a smaller bone structure, especially since he was a submissive being and bearer, giving him the ability to bear young even as a male. Well, he was a hermaphrodite, but so were seventy-five percent of fae-folk. Lily and Jonquil were not hermaphrodites however, meaning that their son was even more special to them.

    “Mummy…” Hosta moaned in a rather sleepy tone as she moved. He wiggled and hung limply half out of her arms as he drooled a little. She smiled at her prince and sat down, their maids coming to serve them tea. Hosta woke up for tea and sweets. He sat beside his mother and sipped his tea and he munched on a treacle tart with a cheshire cat-like grin. “Did anything happen at the meeting? I apologize for napping. I get so tired, I will be getting my wings soon if I am to be a true bearer you see, and mummy thinks that my body is very tired in preparation for my change which will happen in only about a decade or so.”

    “I see…” The Dark Lord was greatly interested in a natural bearer, especially the little nymph sitting beside the Queen of fae. He was so pretty, and adorable to boot. They -- because Voldemort knew for a fact that Severus and Lucius would want to court Hosta as well -- would ask for a courting period with Hosta to try and woo him for himself or to accept a larger relationship with all of them. “Hosta,” Hosta looked up at Voldemort. His Avada eyes were glowing and twinkling with innocence but there was a hint of not-so-innocent spice. “Would you be opposed to courting someone at this age? You are only, what, in your sixties? If not to court you, at least allow me to protect you, as I have protected you in the past.”

    “Mummy, can I court Mr. Voldemort?” The company as well as Queen smiled at ‘Mr. Voldemort’. Lucius and Severus stood up as did the Dark Lord and Queen.

    “Let us adults go to discuss this. Queen Black, can I ask you to watch over Hosta for a few moments?” Bella nodded and the four others walked across the hall to a small conference room/informal office. Bellatrix stood up and sat besides Hosta who was almost instantly crawling over her, his little hands in her curly mane. She giggled and relished having a child. She yearned for her own child so badly, yet it was near impossible to feel the goddess-like feelings of being heavy with child and the pain that accompanies bringing a child into the world, a moment of pain for a precious being that was made of a piece of yourself, a piece of your magic. She let a tear slip and Hosta lifted it with the crook of his finger before bringing it to his lips.

    “Why are you crying, Missus?”

    “Oh, it’s nothing you should worry your cute little head over, my dear,” she smiled and picked him up before turning into a giant Grim-like dog, but with charcoal eyes and claws meant to kill. She crawled up on the couch and let Hosta pet her head and scratch behind her ears. It was much easier to deal with the sadness that enveloped her when she felt the loneliness and emptiness due to her affliction in her hellhound form. She was a divine beast after all. All of the Blacks are Grim-like hellhounds, which is why the kingdom was known as the hellhound kingdom. Bellatrix ruled like Hades ruled the underworld, but she was also quite fair, more so than Voldemort had been for a long time.

    In the office/conference room, Lily took a seat behind her desk and waved her hand, offering the three men seats. She had realized that Fenrir Greyback hadn’t joined them, she assumed him to be dead as almost any other reason was highly inexcusable to miss a meeting for. She crossed her ankles and placed her hands on her desk.

   “So, I take it you would all like a chance to court Hosta,” she picked up a quill, dipped it in dark green ink, and started to write on a parchment, while she wrote, she lectured the men in the room. “I hope you understand how important my precious Hosta is to this kingdom and I hope you all recognize when someone denies an advance. If I catch wind of any of you even attempting to take advantage of Hosta you will be executed. In this regard, your alliance with my kingdom will be forgotten. It is the greatest sin to harm the prince and even worse to take away his innocence and your punishment will be… _severe_. Am I understood, gentlemen?” The men nodded, a round of ‘yes your highness’ took over the room. “Good.

    “You are allowed to court my child on the conditions that you follow the Olde Ways, if you cannot do this or do not know them, then you will either change your way or learn them. If not, then you will _not_ court Hosta. Now, here is the contract promising he will receive your full attention and protection as well as your agreement to all that I have stated,” Lily copied the parchment she had been writing and handed them to each man. They looked it over and they each summoned a quill and signed, using their blood as ink. The contracts are handed back to the Queen who looked them over and smiled. With a pop, the contracts were gone, filed in the kingdom’s library and personal vaults of the few sages who keep track of such agreements as well as the Queen, king, prince, Malfoy, Slytherin and Prince vaults.

    “Let us go back to the sunroom now. I will see Hosta dressed and allow him to show you the garden. He is quite comfortable within the aisles of flowers and in the waters of our ponds,” Lily smiled and led the others back into the sunroom. Hosta was giggling and rubbing Bella’s belly in her hellhound form. She didn’t notice the others come into the room but when Hosta stopped she looked up and turned back after regaining her composure. Lily only smiled at Bella’s antics, knowing she would be a good friend for Hosta since she was strong, powerful and protective.

    “Hosta, darling, would you like to take Lord Voldemort, Lord Malfoy and Emperor Prince outside to see your gardens? The lilies are blooming quite brilliantly this year as well as the Narcissus if I remember correctly.”

    “Oh yes! Of course, mummy. Thank you Queen Black, your company was very enjoyable,” he added the last sentence suddenly as if he had practiced it in the mirror in case an occasion like this ever arrived. Bella waved to him as he skipped outside through the sliding glass doors that were all over the sunroom, designed like this as if they had Hosta in mind and his desire to always be outside like a little nymph. Hosta looked over his shoulder to make sure his guests, now suitors, were following him. He didn’t realize that their pants had constricted slightly and while the Dark Lord and Severus had flowing robes to hide their new tents, Lucius was at a loss in his usual tight leather trousers and the only long piece of fabric being the tail of his shirt under the vest. He wouldn’t say he was a fighter, but he never liked the way robes felt on his legs, especially wizard’s robes. He could have worn something close to what his cousin, Celebrimbor, would wear or even something his heir would have worn, as he had been married in the past and produced an heir, Narcissa was unfortunately killed during a battle with the Order of the Pheonix some years back (her cousin Sirius Black was the one to finish her, sadly enough).

    “These are my lilies,” Hosta spun around and saw his suitors standing awkwardly with heat spots running across their faces like warpaint. “What’s wrong?” Hosta approached them and started to hold his hands up, touching their faces. “Are you running fevers?”

    “We’re fine, prince Hosta,” Severus offered with a warm smile. Hosta looked at him, his hands still firmly in place on Lucius’ fine skin before he stood back.

    “Alright,” he turned back to his lilies, “like I said, these are my lilies. These ones are Arabesque lilies, and these are Gold Band lilies… oh! And these are my favourite, my ‘Tiny Tod’ lilies! Look at their colour, aren’t they just so beautiful?” Hosta cupped his hands around the lilies and inhaled. Floral and divine, they were just the most perfect flower and they came in so many varieties one could never get bored with them. Hosta reached his arm out and summoned his shears with wordless and wandless magic, as wandless was the way of the fae. He clipped off three flowers, a dizzy lily for Severus; Hosta skipped over to a pond and clipped a blue Egyptian lotus for Lucius and clipped his favourite lily, the Tiny Tod lily, and gave one to Voldemort.  
    “I hope you like them!” He grinned up at the men who all smiled down at him and eventually they all pulled him in for a hug. Hosta found out that he enjoyed being cuddled and hugged by these men, they were warm and strong with rough, able and gentle  hands that felt so good against his cloud-soft skin. Eventually, Hosta’s suitors had to leave, but Hosta was sure they would be back soon because they told him as much, and he trusted the people his mother liked because her intuition was never wrong.

    Hosta woke up again, this time he was covered in sappy sweat and he rubbed it off on his blanket before pushing his blanket to the floor. He was hard again, and this time he felt even weirder about it. His mummy told him that it was normal, he was a big boy, he was growing up, but he was thinking about his suitors, about their fingers and arms when they hugged him or their lips on his cheeks and forehead. He knew that his mummy and Jonquil had to have _sex_ in order to make him, because that was how babies were made, but he didn’t want to be a big boy, because that meant he had to have babies and rule the kingdom but his mum did such a good job, he didn’t want to take over. He wanted to play in the garden and swim with the little koi fish and the frogs that hopped on the lily pads and over Hosta’s head. Hosta didn’t want to get older. He was erect no matter if he wanted to be or not… er, how did one _fix_ such a thing? Hosta stared between his legs, confused on what to do, how to continue. He reached down and when he touched his erection little sparks of pleasure were sent up his spine and to his fingertips then down his legs and to his toes. He did so again, he dipped his fingers behind his scrotum where a small vaginal entrance was and used the wet, natural lubrication that came with having a vagina to coat his erection. He lay back, closing his eyes. He wanted to think of something to help him feel even better.

    It was soon after he closed his eyes that Hosta saw his suitors, all kissing him in funny places and doing things that scared him in an exciting way. He stroked himself faster, his toes starting to curl and his back slowly arching up off the bed as his heels dug into the soft padding beneath him. He whimpered as his belly started to tingle as if a million butterflies, filled with static, were trying to escape. Then his balls tightened and he came for the first time that he was awake for. His little vagina flooded and his erection shot nearly clear sprays of come from the angry pink head. He collapsed back on his bed, suddenly the heat around him wasn’t so hot as his body was much warmer. The air cooled his heated skin and he curled up, only to fall asleep again. This time he did dream of his suitors, of the Vampire Lord biting into his body, of the Elven King rubbing his boycock, and Mr. Voldemort (which he was sure couldn’t be the man’s proper title) giving him the sweetest kisses. So soft those kisses were, like butterflies tickling his stomach, or perhaps Mr. Voldemort was more like a moth. No, he was like a snake, and his snake like tongue would lick at the seem of Hosta’s cherry lips and play with his tongue. It was gross to think about tongues doing such odd things, but it was arousing all the same. Perhaps something was wrong with him. He thought about that for a moment, his conscious mind and unconscious mind fighting for control over the dream, and finally his subconscious mind one and continued in the direction it originally was headed.

**Author's Note:**

> Word Count: 6407


End file.
